Jul. 6th, 2010

Scott and I have been to a couple counseling sessions together. In these, I've learned I'm still toting around some really heavy baggage. Triggers I didn't know I was responding to, didn't even realize were there.

It's been a frightening and sad epiphany. Once again, I'm still dealing with things based on the past instead of dealing with what's happening right now.

I know this is typical, how else would I deal with anything? If a person eats shrimp and their face swells up, it would make sense to expect that to happen again.

I also learned that I get very uncomfortable when life gets even and comfortable and good. I'm waiting for things to fall apart, so I try to knock it apart. If it's going to happen at least I'll know when it's coming. And this makes me sad too.

It's a very good possibility that I'm creating situations I know will make me mad or will give me an excuse to wig out and kick things around. This usually happens when things get mellow and fine.

It's said being aware is half the battle. Well, I'm aware. Now what? My first idea was to write "Let life be good" on my bathroom mirror in red lipstick. Then I had Zoe make a little sign with decorations that said the same thing. I've hung it up in the kitchen where I'll see it all the time.

I need to go back to taking pretty pictures every day, finding the beauty and trying to be optimistic, which is difficult for me. It's much easier to stay on guard, then you can't be taken by surprise. Same ol' stuff I've been doing for a long time.

But changing is so HARD. I don't know what it feels like any more than I know what blowfish tastes like. Like I said, it's frustrating and it makes me sad.

Scott isn't completely sure that I'm being honest or that I'll follow through when I say I want to change that. But, I can say that this is the first time I've been working on myself consistently for an extended period of time. And I really feel like it's the first time I've been really clear about the rut I'm stuck in and not just using it as an excuse for my bad behavior.

For some reason, this time feels very, very different.

I also burst into tears during our latest appointment over missing my grandmother, who died 11 years ago.

My instincts are telling me to just sit with this for a little while. Maybe through the trip the kids and I are taking the last two weeks of this month. Just let it float around in my consciousness for a bit and see if it takes shape or talks to me.

Or I'll do something aery-faery and ask for a dream, because I like to do things like that.

May. 4th, 2010

Sometimes I get in these weird funks. I'll think about stuff that happened in freaking high school and get embarrassed about it all over again. I'll dwell on the nasty Facebook rejection. I'll think about how I never got to the pro level of partying and maybe I missed out.

They're just....... weird funks. I get paranoid and I lose my motivation to do anything. I worry and flap my hands around. I stop painting and writing and taking pictures. I spend a lot of time on my computer watching bad reality shows filled with beautiful young people who ARE at the pro level of partying, which just helps me feel bad.

I have to really put an effort into pulling out of them. I re-read the book Fat?So!, which tells people of size that not everyone is genetically programmed to be a size 2. Many times, a person who is heavier than the "ideal" who eats well and exercises regularly is healthier than a thinner person who doesn't have the same healthy habits. The author presents the data that diets don't work. She recommends you find something that moves your body around that you enjoy, then do it because you can enjoy it. One meal a day should be Wash and Chop. But stop trying to cram your body into the media driven mold because unless your DNA is going to cooperate, it's impossible.

I invite people over and enjoy my friends. I cook. I do a little Wii Fit and laugh as I do the hula hoop because I feel like a tool when I do it. I pet the dog. I rest. I drink water.

It still takes a number of days. I have to get into the very uncomfortable place of making myself be optimistic and finding things to appreciate. I'm still squirmy in that kind of space. It doesn't feel right to me. It's not safe. It's not! It's an obnoxious way to be. Obnoxious and fake and too much like a Jell-O commercial.

I just have to wait it out and do what I know makes me feel better. It's just a bout of me beating myself up. I'm still really struggling with how to cut that out. But does anyone ever conquer that?

Apr. 7th, 2010

In the last couple of weeks, the last weeks of March and beginning of April, I've been remarkably good.

I got the Bettie Page bangs I've been wanting for months. They made me feel like an entirely different person, like I was wearing lipstick all the time.

I've gotten dolli'ed up to go out. We all went to the mall to buy a bar-b-que (or grill or whatever one calls it) and, as always, I found the goth/alterna teenagers giving me the once over to be super amusing.

I bought some dress patterns and tried making a dress. I actually succeeded in creating a garment that I could put on and wear. It all went together the way it was supposed to, making me very happy with my new skill.

I was doing more cooking. I was hosting the Brownie meetings. I was making a good go at keeping up with the house. When I needed a break I took one. When I was hungry I ate something.

One day I got a Facebook friend request from a high school classmate who I know actively disliked me. It was just high school stuff, no big deal at this point in my life. I'm sure he got a suggestion on his page that we had mutual friends and sent me the request out of curiosity. I didn't get paranoid. I figured he just wanted to see if I was who he thought I was and take a look at my photos. Fine, look around. I have a cool life.

Mar. 30th, 2010

I've been getting into my retro housewife duds every day again. When I get dressed in the morning Will always asks me where we're going, because I'm getting dressed.

I still feel all curvy and cute when I get my cropped jeans and lipstick on. I just find I have a better day all around if I put on the costume.

Spring has come to Austin Texas. It's been clear with a high of around 80 degrees. Wonderful weather for booting the children into the backyard old-school style, refusing to let them play inside. The running around and jumping on the trampoline cause them to sleep through the night, which means I get to sleep through the night. This is good for everyone.

I'm finding my springtime groove. Backdoor opens at 9:30 or so, for kids to come and go. Dishes are done after Scott leaves for work. Various chores and errands are completed by noon at the latest. Naptime is from whenever chores and errands are completed until it's time to get Zoe from school.

After school, I watch Dr. Phil. We don't have cable or Tivo or anything like that so I once again go all 1970's on my kids, telling them to be quiet and let me watch my show.

It's my understanding that on today's show, he will examine the study that states women have between 30 and 40 hours of leisure time a week, whether they work outside the home or not.

I would like to find the person who funded this study and punch them in the face with my purple, rubber-gloved hand. SOMEONE is resentful of women who talk about how tired they are after their busy week. SOMEONE is taking great joy in pointing out to us that if we would just increase our efficiency we'd have time to read. SOMEONE needs to be told: Fuck you. You could have spent a week doing various women's routines and figured out that we're not lying, you asshole.

Sorry, I digress.

Anyway, I watch Dr. Phil at 3. By the time the show has finished and Dr. Phil and his wife start congratulating each other on solving the world's problems, the kids from next door are over or I've called kids from down the street to come over, sometimes all of the above.

I use this hour before I have to start dinner to goof off. There's a game on Facebook where you use 'credits' or 'coins' to buy bingo cards. And then bingo numbers are called. And if you set 'auto-dab' you don't have to do anything but watch the numbers be called and wait to see if you win more 'credits' or 'coins'. And I play this idiotic game while I'm waiting for my Farmville crops to ripen.

At 5 I start dinner. Any children that are at my house get sent home at 6. Dinner is served to the kids and they can watch TV or whatever until getting ready for bed starts at 7.

Kids go to bed. Dinner dishes are done. Sometimes laundry is put away, but mostly I just decide what I'm going to do with my evening. Play Wizards 101 or watch something on Netflix or whatever.

I've just acquired Photoshop Elements 8 and I'm planning on working with photos this week.

So, that's what the Hip Housewife does during the week now that it's warm outside. It's a good life.

Why did everyone laugh when Hilary said it takes a village to raise a child?

Why are we reacting with stones being thrown and shouts of 'nigger' and 'faggot' when we are being asked to share?

Can't we all just go home and hug the people we love and be glad we live where we do? Where we can yell and scream nasty words? A place where we are allowed to demonstrate against the government and that very government will not lock us up?

Have we become so bloated and fat that we can't see past our enormous stomachs,filled to capacity with high fructose corn syrup laden soda pop, to seethat there are human beings in our country besides ourselves?

Are we only able to see as far as our television? The same television we want to replace with a sixty inch plasma screen and sharing would mean putting that purchase off for another year?

Is this what's become of us?

The country that started out as a ragbag group of untrained militia banding together to break away from the most powerful government in the world? Our country that had to break away because England wouldn't share?

We appear to have come around full circle. Deep in our raging syphilis induced madness screaming no you can't have what's mine!!!!

Mar. 15th, 2010

I have not smoked for sixteen days. The last few have been a LOT easier. It's not so hard to get through the times when I'm stressed out or when I'd usually be smoking.

I've been making a big effort to get back to lipstick. When I don't get dolled up and put on lip rouge I notice I don't feel as good about myself. I have also noticed that there are some very subtle voices in my head encouraging me to just be a schlub. Why? Because I'm not going to get the look right and I'll be perceived as a pathetic loser and a poseur.

I take the safe route because, well, it's safe.

On Sunday the 14th of March, I realized just how my self-esteem was suffering when a part of one of my teeth chipped off. I was flossing what I thought was a popcorn hull out of my back tooth. I thought "Wow, that's a big chunk of something." Nope, it was a chunk of my tooth.

It didn't hurt. It was just a divot out of the side of my tooth. I actually thought about ignoring it because it would probably cost a lot to fix it. I honestly considered not telling Scott about it.

Then, when I went to the dentist the next day and I found out how much is was going to cost for the crown, I wondered if I could tell my dentist to just pull it.

Who has these thoughts? Who else in the world thinks about removing body parts because they're not worth the money it would take to fix?

It turns out that I made the right decision in going in. The tooth in question has a big, old filling in it. The tooth around has discolored and the enamel is cracked. If I'd not gotten it crowned, it would have just cracked apart and left me with just roots. And maybe exposed nerves. Dry socket. All that good stuff.

Sigh, when I am I ever going to get a handle on this? When am I going to stop giving myself all these shoves?